


Killing Innocence

by kaileidohscope



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Romantic Comedy, Smut, predebut!au, top/bottom switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 19:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7187831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaileidohscope/pseuds/kaileidohscope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let's just say there's several reasons why Jongin <i>“didn't want to eat with that Hyung.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hungry Eyes

First impressions were everything to Jongin, and preferably, he liked to make a good one. His first day as an SM trainee was filled with nervous jitters and awkward introductions; a lot of bowing, and _a lot_ of names to remember.

He didn't make many friends, at first. (Then again, it was pretty hard for one to find enough time to actually get to know someone when you spend fifteen hours a day training.) He did know one person, however – his best friend, Taemin, who had already been training about two years, and was set to debut in the upcoming year.

Jongin was both unimaginably happy and excited for his bright-eyed and soft-spoken friend, but he was also somewhat glum in the sense that he and the brunet would rarely be able to spend anytime together – since they already got so little time as it was, and with Taemin having been signed in their late middle school days, they'd only just recently been given the chance to reconnect.

He wouldn't complain though. Taemin had been practicing and training for too long for Jongin to even fathom burdening him with his own selfish reasons. There's was too much sweat and tears and effort put into it – Jongin wasn't going to do anything but cheer him on and watch proudly. It was inspiring, really. The fact that the shy boy he'd befriended back in middle had worked his way all way up to debuting made Jongin just a bit emotional. (And when he'd watched the elder perform his first ever debut stage, it set an unwavering determination in Jongin; that he too would achieve that. He'd make his family proud, and show that all those extra dance classes and expensive art school bills had really paid off.)

 

Along the years, he made several friends. One of the first was a man with kind eyes and a fatherly aura. He had straight black hair trimmed to a fine bowl cut style, with his fringe feathering down just above his sharp brows, and an overwhelmingly caring smile. 

Kim Junmyeon was his name, and he was handsome and charismatic, yet unbearably awkward and silly. He was always the first person Jongin would go to on the days the fatigue would start getting to him, or when the tears would just flow, or when he felt so painfully homesick... Junmyeon was there to sit beside him, pat him on the shoulder, and go on this long and comforting spiel about how Jongin _couldn't_ give up; that he _had to believe in himself_ , and that he needed to make his Mother proud (or else, all this struggle and pain will have been for nothing but a close chance.) Jongin's tears always dried after that, and he was set with a new wave of spunk and perseverance.  
Junmyeon would make the perfect Charity Spokes person, or maybe a counselor. He just had that kind of face.

 

 

Park Chanyeol was the complete opposite. He had legs for days, questionable hair, and ears like the Yoda dude from Star Wars. His eyes were round and double-lidded, and his smile was perfectly fit for a toothpaste commercial. The fact the he was older than Jongin by a solid two years was really mind-blowing, given the rapper-in-training acted like a twelve-year-old 87% of the time—always spewing penis jokes and playing pranks on the SM building employees. 

Despite age differences—and the prominent personality clash between the two of them—Chanyeol followed Jongin around a lot. A lot. If he mentioned wanting a sandwich wrap from the cafeteria downstairs, Chanyeol would jump up and complain about his own appetite – even though he’d just eaten. If Jongin decided to go down to the local market for an energy drink, Chanyeol would tag along and walk so close that their shoulders would bump if Jongin stepped a certain way.

And he was always trying to make Jongin laugh. Which he always did some way or another (the guy was pretty funny sometimes, Jongin admitted), but their sense of humor differentiated a bit. While Chanyeol could laugh at the blatantly obvious jokes and jests—Jongin would find it comedic how one shoe might be dirtier than the other—and Chanyeol would stare at him with this completely lost look, trying to find what was so hilarious but always coming out blank despite Jongin trying to explain that _“it’s funny because how can one shoe be dirtier than the other? Do they walk more on one leg? Do they wear one shoe more? It’s funny, Chanyeol...”_

He will never forget that one time he stepped on a piece of cereal and Jongin called himself a _cereal-killer_ before bursting into laughter. Chanyeol never got his jokes, but he would snicker, anyways. 

Chanyeol tried hard to be liked, so Jongin appreciated the effort. It was flattering, really, to have someone want to be his friend so much—even though Chanyeol didn’t have to try so hard because Jongin liked the company he offered anyway. He wasn’t a very extroverted person, so it just got a bit overwhelming at times.  
The answer to his troubles came in the form of two short brunet boys – one by the name of Byun Baekhyun, who was witty with words, and always quick with a pun. His eyes, slightly drooped, held a constant light of happiness, and his rectangular smile could charm any girl. The other was Kim Jongdae, who had scruffy hair and upturned lips. He was a mild smartass who liked to complain, but also very kind. Needless to say, they were glued at the hips in a matter of two days, and Jongin finally got the private quiet time he treasured (of course, only until the trio decided he was the best person to bother.)

 

 

 

The first time Jongin laid eyes on _him_ , he was freshly eighteen, and giddy about the fact he was finally dated to debut in the upcoming year. He’d been assigned in a group called “EXO”, which consisted of two subunits and twelve members. Jongin didn’t know what the name stood for, but at least it sounded cool.  
The boy had been clothed in a mundane, long sleeved tee, with loose fitting sweats, and ratty sneakers that squeaked with every step. His hair was jet black, pin straight, and snipped short – coming about an inch down his forehead. His build was slim, and his height was rather short. He had small ears, thick brows, prominent lips, and dark eyes behind geeky glasses. He smelled dully of black teakwood, and had a band-aid wrapped around his thumb.  
He appeared harmless, to say the least, but Jongin was intimidated.

Intimidated by the way he could make Jongin feel so small and insecure just by a simple glance, a lingering glance. And when he looked at Jongin, with an unwavering gaze and the faintest of smiles – Jongin felt like he was melting with anxiety.

It was all he could do to lean forward and bow.

“Do Kyungsoo.” The boy introduced himself, and his voice was unexpectedly timbre and warm – just like his eyes. They seemed bottomless; pulling like a fishing line.  
“Kim Jongin.” Jongin dully replied, fingering his sweatpant strings to keep his hands from fidgeting. Kyungsoo seemed to notice, and a humored chortle twitched at the corner of his lips. His eyes flickered back up to the taller's. Jongin gulped, and glanced just about everywhere that wasn't the man in front of him.

“Birth date?”

The dancer's brain short-circuited. He was blank for a hot second, and his palms felt sweaty and his face felt warm. Fuck. How old was he again? Do Kyungsoo was staring, expectantly, with his deep brown irises and bottomless pupils still reeling him in.

“Uh… 1994, fourteenth of January.”

There was a glimmer in those eyes, and Kyungsoo nodded slowly, “ _Ahhh,_ ” He chuckled mostly to himself. He must be older – and that fact slightly unnerved Jongin for some reason. “I'm 1993, twelfth of January. We're almost twinsies.” He unexpectedly added with a soft laugh.

_Twinsies._ The hell?

Jongin nodded quickly, mouth trembling in an awkward laugh as he itched his forehead and found interest in the hardwood flooring.  
There was a small gap of silence between them. Jongin glanced helplessly around the dance studio; watched Baekhyun and Chanyeol act stupid to make Jongdae laugh, watched Junmyeon smile paternally at the introverted Sehun who was the newest recruitment, noticed their manager and Minseok in deep conversation with one of the other staff – all while feeling the deep sensation of being scrutinized and sized-up by the only person standing in front of him—Kyungsoo.

“Do you like coffee?”

Jongin looked forward, and for a second – only for a second – he swore Kyungsoo was staring at him with concupiscence in his gaze. _Only for a second_ , because it vanished the moment Kyungsoo made proper eye-contact.

Jongin wasn't wearing anything particularly provocative—if you considered baggy sweats and a pull-over hoodie as unsexual—he was dressed in simple, casual wear.  
He shook his head to answer the question because his lips weren't working.

Kyungsoo screwed his face up a little, but there was still the slightest hint of something underneath. “Shame.” Was all he sighed before taking several steps towards the exit. “I guess I'll see you around, then, Jongin.” He looked at Jongin, and that cocky little smile and baiting tone of voice had the dancer by the ear.

His smile was radiant, but his eyes were jeering in such a way, that all Jongin could do was scrunch up his brows and watch as the short vocalist stepped out of the studio.  
“That guy…” Jongin mumbled under his breath as he stood staring at the door some moments later, bemused.

“Kyungsoo?” An arm brushed against his own, and then Junmyeon was beside him, looking in the direction Jongin was still leering towards. “Yeah, he got signed a couple years back. Haven’t you seen him around?”

“Uh… Yeah.” Jongin mumbled distractedly when in actuality, he’d never seen Kyungsoo around. Jongin was a dancer; Kyungsoo was a vocalist. They’d never crossed paths before – Jongin was positive of this. (Because he’d definitely remember someone like Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo, who left such an impacting first impression.)

 

 

Kyungsoo wasn't relatively odd or strange acting, nor was he anywhere near rude. He just had… something about him that made Jongin uncomfortable. Kyungsoo wouldn't even be doing anything extravagant—he could just be passing by to get a water bottle or grabbing his bag real quick, but – whenever that familiar scent of black teakwood drew near, Jongin's senses would cling onto his every move like a doe spotting a hunter.  
Jongin was just very aware of the nineteen-year-old, and it absolutely had nothing to do with attraction whatsoever; Kyungsoo was just a very noticeable person. Jongin’s not like that. He doesn’t like boys. (He told himself this continuously.)

Kyungsoo was polite and generous, and kind. He always helped pass out snacks and often assisted Junmyeon and the managers. He practiced with a passion and was quite talented. He and Jongin had actually spoken several times, and the elder had been like any other person—making small comments about the weather and attempting small-talk, but Jongin couldn't shake the feeling of something being off with the way Kyungsoo _looked_ at him.  
It wasn't the way a guy should look at another guy. Jongin had never been looked at like that by a boy before. Girls—plenty! But a _boy_ … Never. Because _guys don’t look at other guys like that_. They just don’t.

When Jongin caught his eyes every so often, it appeared as if Kyungsoo was holding back an illicit secret, and with every occasional glance they shared, the vocalist gained something new to hide.

Sometimes he noticed Kyungsoo's eyes trained on him in the reflection of the mirror while they went through choreography – at first Jongin had thought maybe Kyungsoo had been taking notes (not that Jongin was conceited; their choreographer had said multiple times that he'd make a good reference for the others to follow), but there was always something more to it then just studying his movements—it felt more like Kyungsoo was peeling the clothes off his body, one sweaty garment at a time.  
It felt _weird_. Almost _wrong._

And there were other times—like on lunch breaks. It'd be similar to the dancing incidents, but instead of staring at his physique, Kyungsoo would watch each time Jongin took a bite or put just about anything in or near his mouth. Now Jongin wasn't a shy eater – but these little things were making him self-conscious.  
A ghost of a smirk would brush against Kyungsoo's mouth, and he'd chuckle a little under his breath, and lower those owlish eyes like it was some kind of inside joke he had with himself. Jongin lost count of the times he noticed it.

But then there were also days where Kyungsoo didn't even acknowledge his existence. He’d stroll right passed, grab whatever it was he was after, and leave without so much as even glancing Jongin’s way (even though Jongin had been obtrusively eying him the whole time.) No glance; no greeting; _no nothing._  
There wasn’t an in between—he was either treated like a target or ignored like a wall.

 

 

 

Jongin didn't consider himself to be a very sexual person. In fact, he'd even go as far as to say his mind was pretty clean and pure. No—he wasn't a virgin; he knew the basics of sex, and he'd even given it a whirl in ninth year when the cute girl from homeroom wanted to – but it was just that once, and he hadn't shown much interest in it after that.  
Sure, it felt good and even momentarily lessened some of his stress—but it just wasn't worth the hassle, in his honest opinion. Basically, that cute girl from homeroom got her ego damaged when Jongin wasn't _totally wasted_ after her over-exaggerated climax. It was more of a _“That's it?”_ kind of experience; totally unlike how it's presented in the movies. It was actually kind of boring, and awkward, and he'd had a bit of trouble staying focused the whole time. (He distinctly remembers even thinking through a few choreographies whilst still fucking the homeroom girl with lackluster.)  
Maybe they hadn't done it right? He didn't know, he just knew he didn’t understand how people thought it was so spectacular—to the point where some could even get addicted to it.

On the other hand—he learned that Kyungsoo was surprisingly very experienced in the field of physical pleasure (or at least he'd done enough research to be so well educated). The fact the short male wasn't very talkative to begin with had made it an even stranger revelation.   
The first occurrence happened during a dinner break, when they'd been gathered around three seasoned chickens in the practice room, and Jongin had been halfheartedly listening in on Baekhyun and Chanyeol's rather inappropriate conversation.   
Kyungsoo was sat across from him, with Sehun to Jongin's left, and the other two to his right. Junmyeon had been having a meeting with their manager (otherwise, said _inappropriate conversation_ probably wouldn't be happening). Jongdae and Minseok were somewhere else in the building.

“It's literally impossible! I've tried everything – fast, slow, deep, rough—I've even experimented with toys and I just can't get her to cum. Next week is the last chance I'll get and I want it to be like a grand finale before I have to dump her, y'know?” Baekhyun chewed his chicken with a worrisome expression. “I don't want her to remember me as _That Guy Who Sucks In Bed_. Plus, she'll probably be the last chick I get to bone for at least a couple years! I have to make the most of it while I can.”  
Chanyeol made an understanding sort of noise before licking the leftover chicken grease off his nobly fingers, and speaking past his mouthful. “Dude, it's real simple!” He held up a now grease-free hand as demonstration, folding his ring-finger down as his index, middle, and pinkie stayed erect. “Two for the pink; one for the stink, and then your thumb is just doing whatever.”

Baekhyun slightly grimaced, “That sounds gross.” He muttered as he scooped some vegetables onto his plate.  
Chanyeol shrugged offhandedly and mumbled, “I read about it online.” as he went for a small piece of chicken breast.  
Jongin tried to empathize—but he honestly had trouble seeing what all the fuss was about. He hadn't been getting any of that sort of action since freshman year, and he had no problem continuing the streak. Although, he supposed it must be harder for those who have been more sexually active than he was. Oh well. Chicken was definitely more important.

“You don't have to try so hard to get a girl to cum. Just tickle her clit for a while and it'll eventually happen. You could even try finding her G-spot, but it's difficult and it has this weird texture.”  
Four pairs of eyes looked to Kyungsoo in silent, incredulous surprise. What? The fuck? Kyungsoo simply popped a small ball of rice in his mouth as if he hadn’t said anything.  
Chanyeol was the first to speak up.

“Wait—you've actually hit the G-spot before?” His tone was filled with disbelief.

“I didn't even think that was possible.” Baekhyun chimed in with matching astonishment. Kyungsoo simply nodded, obviously quite blasé about it.  
“Yeah, it’s easiest to find with your fingers. It's like two inches up there. Just feel around for it—it's a little rough and spongy, and then just tap it quick like this—” He waggled his middle finger showily, “and that's it. Or you could do both – that also works. Tonguing her clit and finger-fucking her could have her squirting if you're good enough.”  
Jongin grimaced at his chicken leg.

“Woah, you've made a chick squirt before? _Holy fuck!_ ” Baekhyun broke out in utter amazement. He was looking at Kyungsoo like he just found the El Dorado. Jongin snickered a little. Any second now, he expected Baekhyun to belt the iconic chorus of “A Whole New World”—because that’s literally something Baekhyun would do. (And Chanyeol would probably join, too.)

The short boy with cropped hair and glasses never came off as a Lady's Man. Jongin had even pegged him as a virgin, but he was _obviously_ very wrong.   
“I’ve only had some girls do it.” Kyungsoo pointed out as if he were being humble, and glanced at Jongin taking a bite of rice.  
Chanyeol scoffed in complete incredulity. “Just how many chicks have you gone down on?”

_Obviously enough to be so insouciant about it_. Jongin thought, but held his tongue and kept equable. If he were to be honest—this entire conversation was actually making him uncomfortable. (And a little grossed out.)  
 _“A whole new woooooorrrrlllddd! A new fantastic point of viewww~~”_

There it was.

 

Needless to say, Kyungsoo pretty much became the go-to-guy for any sex-related questions. He was, as Baekhyun boasted, _“more informational than sex-ed.”_

 

 

 

 

What was one of the most exciting days of Jongin's life officially marked the beginning of the downfall.

It was the day EXO-K would be participating in their first “practice” photo shoot, and the day they'd also be introduced to their other half—EXO-M. EXO-K and EXO-M weren't all that different, except EXO-M sang in Mandarin, and the majority of their members were Chinese.

It had started out relatively fine, with a bit of a rush and a squish inside a minivan. It was just a short drive, maybe fifteen minutes. The moment Jongin stepped into the studio, he was swarmed with stylists. It was a bit overwhelming, but also very exciting. (After all, it's not everyday something like this happened.)

He attire had already been picked out for him—dark denim skinny jeans and a black muscle shirt—so the first thing he had to do was clothe himself. Then, he was ushered off to one of the styling booths to get his hair cut and styled.  
In the midst of fingers carting through his hair and the soft snipping of scissors, Jongin was preoccupied with his phone. That is – until something behind the LED screen, reflecting in the vanity mirror, caught his attention.

It was the contrast of a light hand moving against something dark. It took a moment, but Jongin soon realized it to be an ass, clothed in skin-tight yoga pants, and belonging to a woman. The hand groping it was awfully presumptuous, kneading over the cushiony posterior before grabbing a handful. It was done in a subtle manner, as to not gain any unwanted attention (though the act was painfully obvious in Jongin's eyes.)   
He didn't know what to think. (Well, he actually thought it was unprofessional and super inappropriate.) A woman was letting some guy fondle her ass instead of doing her job, and quite frankly, that pissed Jongin off.

His eyes flitted up to catch who the culprits were, batshit ready to cause a scene—when none other than Do Kyungsoo landed in his sights. His attention was focused on the said woman in front of him, with a slightly hooded gaze and a smirk on his lips, seemingly unaware that Jongin had caught them red-handed. (Literally.)

The dancer was completely nonplussed. His blinked once, blinked twice, then glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the act. They were all distracted; working. His wide eyes landed on the reflection again, just barely catching the two exchange flirtatious mumblings before a make-up artist stepped in front of him, and began fluffing his face with a powder brush.

He almost squawked at the harsh feeling of it (and because she'd intercepted his peeking), but instead just made a disgruntled sort of noise and held still for her to finish. When she stepped away to get something else to paint his face with, the two sexual deviants had already retreated from one another and were going about actual business, with the stylist handing Kyungsoo his outfit, and Kyungsoo accepting it with an appreciative bow and that cherubic face of his.  
It was almost as if the secretive shenanigans had never happened, and Jongin's mind had just conjured it up. Bemused, he followed Kyungsoo's reflection until he came into his peripheral, side-eyeing as the short vocalist took the empty vanity booth to his left and was swarmed with other stylists and make-up artists.  
He was completely baffled.

Everything went normally after that. There were no further interruptions, and Kyungsoo was being his usual self: quiet, polite, and obedient. (As for the stylist—he never spotted her around.) Jongin couldn't stop watching the vocalist. Even if he wasn't intentionally trying to, his eyes naturally drifted over towards the elder boy. Multiple times the photographer told him to look straight, to focus, to pose properly, to not look at Kyungsoo. His eyes were like magnets, and Kyungsoo was pure iron.

He was waiting for the mask to slip; for Kyungsoo to do _anything_ that would prove Jongin had truly seen the indecent behavior just an hour prior.  
But Kyungsoo.. He just looked so innocent – those wide, black irises and that cherubic face seemed completely incapable of sin. Jongin was honestly losing his marbles. He never slipped up once; even had the audacity to look at Jongin—with thick raised brows and big concerned eyes—and ask if perhaps he had something on his face that was making the younger stare so much. It was as riveting as it was annoying. And his up-styled hair wasn’t helping.

For the first twenty minutes of the photoshoot, Jongin just wanted to grab his stupid shoulders and demand to know if he’d cupped some chick’s ass earlier. He didn’t, of course. Professionalism at it’s finest, honestly.

Everything went so smoothly, in fact, that Jongin eventually _did_ forgot the incident (or at least – his mind set it aside for later after being scolded so many times).

 

It was bordering eight o’clock by the time the shoot came to a successful close, and everyone was _starving_. The kind of starving that could make horse shit look appetizing. It didn't take much negotiation to convince their manager to take them out to one of those fancy restaurants only the rich get to go to. Everyone was pumped and ready to gorge, especially Jongin. He'd never been to one of these types of restaurants before; his family was never able to afford going out often, and it was normally only on special occasions that they did so. His empty and screaming stomach just made it all the more exciting.

The lot of them gathered around a floor table and situated their cushions to their liking. Jongin sat between Sehun and Junmyeon. Minseok and Jongdae took either end of the table, and Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Kyungsoo took the opposite side. With the way they were arranged, Jongin was directly across from the vocalist.  
Directly across, which meant it gave a great view for Kyungsoo to ogle him eating. Yes, it happened so often that Jongin _expected_ it now—even planned beforehand to try and not sit so close to the other to get some food-privacy. Not today, though. It seemed like fate was against him. (Just like any other day, honestly.)  
They ordered some pot-stickers and enough Hot Pot to feed a group double their size. Nobody was worried about not being able to finish, though. Again – this was the kind of starving that could make horse shit look appetizing.

 

 

Something was off. _Kyungsoo_ was acting off, and Jongin took note of it pretty much instantly.   
The elder started out normal. He helped cook the meat and neatly separated the greens, but after that – his attitude took a strange turn. He was borderline silent, distracted, always sneaking peeks at his phone, and wasn’t engaged in any of the talk going around the table. Being quiet was his disposition—but this was too quiet. He didn’t even offer his two cents when Junmyeon started talking about Jo Insung’s latest acting gig. Kyungsoo was the first to finish eating, as well.  
No one else seemed to take much notice of it, but Jongin did. He noticed it all. From the way the boy grooved his brow a certain way while staring intently at his phone—to the way his slender fingers skirted under his shirt collar to languidly rub his nape or collarbone.  
Jongin didn’t say anything about it. Just watched him quizzically and ate in peace (because for once, Kyungsoo wasn’t paying him any attention).

 

 

Dinner wrapped up around ten, when the plates were bared and everyone (read: Chanyeol) was belly-aching over how full they were but damn ice-cream sounded good, and they should definitely stop and get some ice-cream.

 

Baekhyun and Jongdae borderline whined to get some ice-cream sculpted roses at Milky Bee’s—because it’s really artistic and fun to watch, but everyone poo-pooed it due to lack of flavor variety. Junmyeon wanted to go to Sobok, but paying six dollars a piece for a little bowl of ice-cream wasn’t worth it. Sehun suggested stopping by one of those Foot Long Ice-cream stands, but everyone groaned because honestly, that much ice-cream sounded so nauseating on top of their huge dinner.   
Minseok quietly proposed Café Aboong, and everyone erupted in excited agreement.   
_Finally_ , Jongin muttered as they gathered around the shop, and everyone was handed their angelfish-shaped ice-creams. The first thing he went for was the chocolate-covered fruit squire.

There were only two picnic tables available, but Jongin managed to snag a seat at one. Kyungsoo sat at the other, Thank God. They all hung about in their groups – Chanyeol and Baekhyun goofing by the curb, Jongdae, Junmyeon, and their manager sat at the other table, along side Kyungsoo, Minseok dithering around between both tables, and Sehun perched by Jongin and was currently gossiping his ear off.

He was listening, mostly. Barely. He caught something about Baekhyun getting squirted in the eye while eating out his girlfriend, and tried not to listen to anything else after that. He was saved from hearing too much about Sehun’s ingrown toenail when he realized Kyungsoo was leaving. (Rather, _Sehun_ noticed Kyungsoo was leaving and got distracted.)

“Kyungsoo hyung, you’re leaving already?” The youngest cupped a hand around his mouth, yelling. Kyungsoo was now several yards away, phone in hand.

The vocalist looked over towards the others, eyes blank for a moment as he stowed his phone in his hoodie pocket. Then he pulled his lips into a flat-lined smile, and barely waved his hand. “Yeah. My mum still has me on curfew.” His smile twitched a little at this, gaze focusing on Jongin, and the dancer looked down at the ice-cream in his hands.  
Everyone (excluding Jongin) made some sort of empathetic groan, and offered their own melancholic waves as if Kyungsoo were being discharged from military service. Jongdae even gave him a steel-faced yet cheeky salute.

“Curfew! At nineteen? His parents must suck.” Sehun snorted once Kyungsoo was out of view, disappeared around the street corner that lead towards the bus stop.  
“They’re probably just protective.” Jongin shrugged offhandedly. His parents were never like that—strict in regards to how late he stayed out. Truthfully never had to worry about it – Jongin never went out, in the first place.

“Over-protective, I’d say.” Sehun mumbled, taking a bite of his angelfish-shaped cone. Jongin hummed under his breath, brows grooved as he lapped his ice-cream. “Anyway, there’s pus coming out of my toe and I don’t know if I should get it checked out by a doc or something. I haven’t asked my dad yet because what if they have to amputate my toe because it’s infected or something. Can people still dance without their big-toes? It’s gonna look so gross when I wear flip-flops.”   
Sehun continued rambling on about his gross feet, at the expense of Jongin’s stomach.

 

 

 

“Shit!” Jongin suddenly exclaimed three-fourths of his way home, causing Chanyeol to nearly jump out of his skin at the unexpected explosion. They were in the subway, heading towards their homes that were conveniently along the some route.  
“Jesus Christ you could’a given my a heart attack!” Chanyeol griped, caressing the part of his chest where his poor heart lie. Most of the other people on the train had looked over at the two, and Chanyeol smiled awkwardly under their judgmental eying.

“I left my jacket at SM.” Jongin reasoned, brows drawn in tight and confused because _how could he forget his favorite jacket!_ “My mom’s gonna kill me—I left my house key in the pocket and I’ve already had it replaced twice! _Shit..._ ” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Chanyeol looked over at him, brow curved as he adjusted his bag, and waited for a clearing to get through to the door. “Just go get it.”

“Aren’t they closed this late?” Jongin questioned, a small spark of relief in his tone. They both hustled out of the train, spilling out onto the platform with some of the other passengers.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure anyone can get in as long as you’re apart of the company.” Chanyeol hummed as they walked towards the stairway exit, fixing a headphone in his ear and about to offer to Jongin one, only the younger sudden stopped walking.  
“Then I have to go get it. They last time I went home without a house key, I had to crawl through my sister’s bedroom window and I get grounded for a week because I scared her really bad and I broke a lamp so I’ll see you tomorrow!”  
Chanyeol didn’t even get a word out before Jongin was sprinting back the way they’d just come, leaving him to stand there dumbfounded and with no one to share headphones with. 

“Yeah, see ya.” He snickered eventually, placing both earbuds in his ears, and continued towards the ascending stairwell.

 

 

Getting into SM was as easy as Chanyeol made it out to be. All Jongin had to do was show his ID, and security let him in without any question or comment. Despite this, he made it clear to the guard on duty that he forgot his jacket and had just returned to pick it up, promising not to take long – fidgety smile and all.  
People were pretty scarce at this time of night, ten passed midnight, and nobody but the receptionist was present as he made his way through the front lobby. He passed others along the way, though. Mostly younger trainees calling it a night, because they had early morning classes to attend. 

Jongin’s not afraid of the dark. He told himself this on an almost nightly basis, when there happened to be a strange noise outside, or he could’ve sworn something just moved in his closet and _fuck why didn’t he close the closet door before turning the lights off_ , but it’s fine, because he’s sure it’s nothing, and Monggu is sleeping at his feet.  
But Monggu wasn’t there right now, so the corridor to their practice room looked eerily creepy in the dim lighting.

He manged to keep his calm some of the way, but ended up skittering down the hall when an unnecessary rush of being chased zinged up his back, and his body was surged with momentary adrenaline. His hands trembled with the door knob, but he got into the practice room with relatively no issue. But no, Jongin’s not afraid of the dark.  
His jacket was left on the couch, where he’d left it, so he scuttled over and snatched it up with a sigh of relief. His hands shuffled through the pockets, ensuring his wallet and house keys, before an uncanny creaking caught his ear. He froze instantly. The noise, he registered, was faintly muffled and coming from his right – from the direction of the vocal warm up rooms, just out of his line of vision. It sounded familiar, like rocking a chair with uneven legs back-and-forth.   
Jongin tightly gripped his jacket in his hands, slowly turning his head towards the direction of creaking was coming from. 

The vocal rooms were basically just fancy closets. All that was in there was a chair, a body mirror, and a wall plug to plug in devises or chargers.  
In other words—pretty fucking creepy to have noises coming from in the middle of the night, in a mostly empty building, in their empty practice room. All of the other members had gone home- he’d seen all of them leave, given them all goodbyes, what could be causing the noise? Unless someone else had just so happened to forget a belonging as well. What if it was it a burglar?

Oh shit. What _if_ it was a burglar. _Oh shit._

Jongin inched towards the room, steps hesitant and silent, and eyes most definitely shaking as they stared down the vocal room. A small window was mounted in the door, but he was no where near close enough to peek in.

The creaking abruptly grew louder when he drew near the door, followed by what sounded like a guy’s voice mumbling something inaudible, and a loud clatter. He cowered down, hiding, and quickly pressed his back to the wall—trying to keep his heart from falling out of his mouth in the process. He could feel the blood in his temples, lips parted and chest heaving with startled breath. His eyes glanced around frantically, wondering if perhaps he should call security or the police or maybe his mom. And then he heard something else.  
He heard a woman’s moan. Loud and strained, and faintly hindered with the same creaking rhythm. A garbled _“Fuck”_ came after—it was the guy this time—followed by a very profound slap, and louder cry out of the woman.

Jongin’s mind was swimming for multiple reasons. There were too many for him to comprehend at once, but there were three things that stood out against the rest.  
(1) There is a couple having sex in one the vocal rooms. (2) What the actual fuck is happening, there’s a fucking couple having fucking sex in one of the fucking vocal rooms, and (3) Why the hell did that voice sound so familiar?

That voice… Timbre and quiet, with a warmth that reminded Jongin of a pair round eyes and geeky glasses and plump lips and cropped hair and sweltering stares and lips bites and coy smirks and _holy fucking hell it’s Kyungsoo._  
Now Jongin’s mind was far beyond swimming—he was drowning.


	2. Apprehension

“I want a wrap or something. Do you think they have chicken?” Jongin glanced around the plastic boxes available, eyeing each condiment in search for the said delicacy. All of them looked pretty bleak.

“Mm… I only see turkey and bacon.” Chanyeol mumbled, pursing his lips as he glanced around the sandwich wraps as well. Jongin grumbled under his nose as they sidled along the buffet.

“I’ll just get turkey, I guess.” He sighed halfheartedly, settling for one of the boxes in the back row before they moved onto the drinks—because Jongin’s logic is that whatever is in the back is _always_ better regardless of what it is. He picked out a raspberry lemonade after complaining about how there was no chocolate milk left and only nasty diet soda or coffee to choose from.

“You’re so full of complaints today.” Junmyeon commented humorously, trying to pry his can of diet coke open. He’d caught up with the two at the fridges, them being the only three left to find seats in their group. They were on their way to the tables, and Jongin was still pouting about his lack of a chicken wrap.

“Yeah, because everything sucks!” Jongin justified with a huff, and they came to a stop to look around for any open tables.

Kyungsoo was sitting on the right side of the cafeteria, so Jongin scrutinized every single table on the left side, because no-fucking-way would he sit on the right.

He wouldn’t. He refused.

“Kyungsoo’s table is open.” Junmyeon noted, bumping elbows with Jongin—who inwardly groaned. The leader took one step in Kyungsoo’s direction before Jongin yanked on his sleeve, and he looked back at the younger.

Jongin fidgeted slightly, wetting his lip in a nervous habit as he glanced towards the _Dreaded_ table. “Um... I don’t.. want to sit with that Hyung.” He stammered quietly. Chanyeol rolled his eyes and Junmyeon gave a baffled sort of expression.

“What? Why not?” Junmyeon asked, oblivious.

“He’s been like this all week; I don’t know what his problem is.” Chanyeol chimed in, playful annoyance in his voice as he elbowed Jongin’s side.

Jongin glared at the taller, giving him a light hit with the back of his hand in retaliation.

No, they don’t know what his problem is, because Jongin didn’t tell them what he heard—what he _saw_. He didn’t tell them how Kyungsoo didn’t go home after they got ice-cream last weekend, or about Kyungsoo banging a woman—one of the companies _stylists_ , no less—in one of the vocal rooms. He didn’t tell them about how he peeked to make sure, and saw things no innocent-minded person should ever be exposed to. And he definitely didn’t tell them that Kyungsoo saw him.

  


While he was frozen, traumatized, peeking through the window, Kyungsoo happened to look up and spotted him in the mirror. Jongin hid in panic, but he knew it was too late. They’d seen each other, and he’d never forget the look on Kyungsoo’s sweaty face when their eyes met for that split second. It dripped of dominance and fire and utter sex-appeal, with a hidden layer of startlement and rippled pleasure. It was so foreign and weird and Jongin _literally ran_.

He ran out of the building like a bat out of hell, and never once looked back until he’d reached the front yard of his home. He’d planned to tell their manager or maybe Junmyeon the next morning, but ended up chickening out after relentlessly debating the consequences.

Because, yeah right, they would believe him. The thought alone was laughable. Kyungsoo… Innocent, kind, _pure_ , Kyungsoo, who had the face of an owl and the personality of an angel—caught bending over a female staff in one of the vocal rooms.

_Yeah-fucking-right_ , they would believe him. (Jongin, sat alone in his room—with sanity running thin and mild hysteria setting in—had laughed like a lunatic at this recurring realization.)

  


  


He’d been avoiding Kyungsoo ever since, but it was difficult when they were literally in the same building, the same room, the same group, _together,_ every single day. It was unavoidable, but Jongin still made an effort. When Kyungsoo even looked in his direction, he practically cowered and hid and kept any speaking monosyllabic. Anything to resist the elder’s attention.

But here it was. His fate was inevitable.

“I just don’t want to.” Jongin grumbled. Junmyeon scrunched his brows at him, the way he always did when he was concerned or confused. Like a dad.

“It’s just Kyungsoo.” He stated, as if it wasn’t obvious. Jongin was still evidently hesitant. “Are you two fighting or something?” He took Jongin’s silence as a Yes. “You’re not going to resolve it being petty. The best thing to do is talk it out and get passed the burden—you’ll never heal a burn if all you use is hot water.”

Jongin stared incredulously at the elder.  _What is he even saying?_ _What?_

Junmyeon smiled as if they’d come to some mutual understanding, and patted Jongin on the back. “Come on, let’s sit.”

Jongin’s feet stumbled into the first few steps, his heart trembling in horror as they got closer to Kyungsoo’s table. He swore his life was flashing before his eyes as Chanyeol and Junmyeon happily sat down. The seat left for him was the seat beside Chanyeol and across from Junmyeon.

(At least it wasn’t beside Kyungsoo. At least God had _that_ much mercy on him.)

Jongin sat—albeit reluctantly—and kept his eyes averted to the table. Junmyeon gave him a look, and Jongin withheld a sneer as he hesitantly opened his wrap box.

  


He could feel Kyungsoo’s prescience like radiation straight to his brain. He was just about to crawl under the table and die when Chanyeol guffawed all of a sudden, and pointed towards Kyungsoo’s plate.

“Ha! Look Jongin, Kyungsoo’s the one who took the last chicken wrap.”

Jongin  glanced through the corner of his eye , and fuck, Kyungsoo was looking at him now. “ _Aheh_ ...  Yeah...”  He gave a muffled sound, a dishumored sort of chuckle—or maybe he was choking on air.

Their meal commenced. Chanyeol went on to ask about vocal warm-ups, Junmyeon talked  ab out it and demonstrated a couple, and Jongin inspected his turkey wrap  while feeling  uncomfortable. The wrap was pretty plain. Just sliced sandwich meat, finely chopped carrots, and way too much lettuce for the amount of turkey  available . Two bites in, and he’d be eating nothing but lettuce and tortilla. No mayo, or dressing  in sight —super dry.  He should have gotten a salad. This was a pitiful excuse  for a wrap.

He sighed with burden, checking to see if there was at least a mayo packet hidden in his tray or something, but found nothing. There was dressing available at the table, but the bottle was over near Kyungsoo. And that was kind of a problem.

  


Jongin swallowed his saliva, eyeing the tall dressing bottle before looking forward at Junmyeon. Junmyeon was currently discussing the latest One Piece episode with Chanyeol. He hesitated for a moment, worrying his bottom lip before unobtrusively speaking up.

“J… Junmyeon.” It was barely a whisper; completely inaudible under the layers of loud voices all around them. He swallowed nothing this time, glancing at his wrap, and then back at the leader. “Junmyeon.” A little louder this time—but not loud enough to get the man’s attention.

Jongin sighed inwardly, pressing his lips into a fine line before trying _again_ , “Jun—”

The syllables froze on his tongue as Kyungsoo shifted in his seat, and—from the corner of his eye—he watched as Kyungsoo grabbed the dressing bottle and extended it across the table, towards him.

  


Jongin didn’t move. For several moments there, he didn’t even breathe—might’ve forgotten how to, until his lungs started burning and he was forced to take a breath. His eyes stayed glued to his lunch, not daring to look up as he questioned his life and how to end it.

What the hell was he supposed to do? He could say _“no, I don’t want you to give it to me, put it back so Junmyeon can get it” –_ but that would sound incredibly stupid and childish—and it’d also mean he’d have to speak to Kyungsoo, therefore acknowledging the guy’s scary existence. Jongin didn’t want to do that. But he also couldn’t just _not_ take it. That would be too awkward and rude, and despite some popular opinions, Jongin _d_ _id_ have a sense of manners.

There was nine solid seconds of clammy palms and nails digging into his hands. It’d felt like everything had become uncannily silent—but Jongin’s ears were just muted. Everyone was still talking and going about around them, but all he could see was their mouths moving.

Jongin cautiously reached over to where Kyungsoo was still holding the bottle out. He kept his eyes down at his wrap, fronting the most casual face he could pull as he blindly searched for the damned ranch bottle, the back of his fingers barely brushing the edge of Kyungsoo’s fingertips before he found a grip on the bottle and went to pull back.

  


Firm and deliberate, he was met with Kyungsoo’s unceremonious resistance.

There was a millisecond pause, and in the surprise of it all, Jongin looked up. He fucking looked up, and right at Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo was already staring at him.

There was that _look_ again. That look that Jongin knew _oh so well_.

Blank and innocuous to any onlooker, but with the faintest curls of a smirk hidden in his gaze; playing coyly at the corner of his lips – reserved only for the dancer to see, to comprehend, before the elder unfettered his hold on the ranch bottle, and Jongin glanced away. And then it was like it never happened.

Everything surged back into motion around him. Sounds came back to life and continued on.

“What do you think, Jongin?”

Jongin blinked once, blinked twice, and finally realized Junmyeon was talking to him, waiting expectantly for some sort of answer to a blank question.

Jongin gulped down his nerves, and put his facade on again. “What was that?” He asked, popping the bottle cap open as he pealed open his wrap, proceeding to drown it in ranch.

“Rooming buddies,” Junmyeon prompted, oblivious and smiling. “You’re fine with Sehun, right?”

“Oh,” The dancer forced a clipped laugh. “Yeah. ‘sfine.” and went back to his wrap drowning.

He dared a glance towards Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo wasn’t paying him any mind, instead snickering lightly at Chanyeol’s obnoxious side comments and complaints about how _he_ wanted to be roomed with Jongin and how it’s not _fair_ that he’ll be stuck with _Baekhyun_ when he’d honestly prefer _Jongdae._

The rest of Jongin’s lunch was terse and tense and the moment he stuffed the last bit of wrap in his mouth, he bolted and didn’t look back; ignoring Junmyeon’s biting tone and shouts of bad manners.

Jongin couldn’t care less about fucking table manners. He just needed to be away from Kyungsoo. ASAP.


	3. Doomed

Jongin might as well be dead. He was 100% certain he wouldn’t survive his awaiting fate, so he _ might as well _ just end himself and get it over with.

 

There were two things Jongin was absolutely positive about. First, Junmyeon was utterly oblivious, and a fucking  _ idiot _ . And second, he was unconditionally and irrevocably set to die the moment he stepped through the door before him. His life-clock would decrease tenfold just by opening the door.

 

The door that lead to his new dorm room.

 

Or—more accurately, the Hell hole he’d be sharing with his  _ worst nightmare _ for the next year – or maybe even longer, depending on how fucked his luck was.

 

He was pretty sure he was shaking. Or maybe his body was just enduring the aftershock currents of his pounding heart. Either way it caused his new room key to slip between his fingers and fall to the hardwood floor. He’d received it via his manager that morning, brand new and just made. (He’d have to remember to get some key chains to hook it onto.)

 

It clattered softly on the floor, but the noise still caused the nineteen-year-old to jump in terror. He spewed a colorful string of curses as he swooped down and grabbed it from the floor, gripping it tightly in his hands to ensure it’s safety. The last thing he needed was to be heard—when he was trying so hard to keep his existence as subtle as possible.

 

He tried calming his breaths; taking in slow, measured inhales and exhaling as gently as possible as he stared fearfully at the doorknob and tried to steady his sanity.

  
  


He was going to die. He was  _ literally _ going to die.

  
  


Minutes ticked by, and Jongin felt an overwhelming sense of queasiness the moment he took hold of the metal knob. He pushed the mahogany door open, and stepped into the room – keeping his eyes downturned.

 

The room was dimly lit by one of the bedside lamps, and the floor was plush carpet. The decor pallet was soft nude tones and ashy blacks. He wasn’t the first to arrive—if the open suitcase on the bed and the pairs of shoes by the door were any pointer.

 

The bathroom light was on and there were evident sounds of someone moving about in there—and Jongin’s stomach tumbled over multiple times in brief panic. He toed his shoes off and left them by the door with the others before silently snooping about. He placed his suitcase down beside the tall wooden dresser.

 

The walk-in closet was massive, and (from what he could see from the doorway) some rods were already hung with dark tees and pants that weren’t his own. The aforementioned dresser was to his right, and in front of that – lined headboard against the wall – was a queen-sized bed with the sheets pulled back. (Jongin brows knitted in both confusion and horror. Only one bed? Only just this one? Surely it was a mistake. Surely there was another bed somewhere. Surely he’d have his own bed to himself. Surely they wouldn’t be sharing.  _ Surely. _ )

 

There was a decent lounge area over the left-hand corner of the room, opposite the entryway Jongin was still standing in. The area was complemented with a cityscape window, bean bag chairs, and neon colored cushions and a fuzzy rug. Upon closer inspection, Jongin discovered a wide flat-screen TV mounted in the wall, and a shelf full of newly released movies—most of which the dancer had never seen before.

 

(Wow, was that the latest Transformer movie? X-Men!? Harry Potter!? Pirates of Caribbean?!?  _ Holy fuck _ —this movie selection was  _ loaded! _ )

 

Jongin pulled a few DVD’s from the shelf, looking them over with awe and excitement—already making plans to binge-watch. He then noticed a low buzzing coming from behind him, and turned to find a pearly white mini-fridge hooked up against the wall.

 

His eyes bulged with intrigue, “ _ Ah, sweet! _ ” and he rushed over to check its contents.

Vitamin waters, energy drinks, and fruit cups flooded his vision when he pulled the little door open, and he couldn’t help but to deflate a little. He’d been hoping for at least some soda. It’d been  _ so long _ since he’d had a soda, the carbonated drink being restricted from his diet for the past two months. He closed the mini-fridge with a dull sigh. Fruit cups weren’t  _ horrible _ .

  
  


He straightened out of his slouched position, eyes naturally falling towards the cityscape window and all the little people and buildings below. Then he heard a quiet click, and the soft ambiance of humming filled the room.

 

Jongin froze. His heart plummeted from his chest, colliding like a boulder against all his other organs and falling straight out of his ass. He tentatively peeked over his shoulder, and a round set a shoulders settled in his view. Short cropped hair, long-sleeved black tee, gray sweats hanging low, the gentle curve of a back—f _ uck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fu kfuc kfuck fu c k _

 

Kyungsoo was leaning over the suitcase laid open on the bed, shuffling through its contents and gathering a few small toiletries in his hands. Jongin gulped audibly, the creases of his palms almost sweating. The short vocalist, apparently sensing the blob of panic behind him, glanced over his shoulder, and barely even reacted to the second presence in the room. He eyed Jongin up and down quite blankly, then grabbed a thick bottle of facial moisturizer out of his suitcase and went back to the bathroom.

 

Jongin’s heart barely settled - quieted down just enough for him to furrow his brows and tentatively lean over to peek into the bathroom. Kyungsoo was setting up his space on the left side of the sink. Toothbrush, toothpaste, facial creams, and moisturizers. He supposed that left Jongin with the right side. (He preferred the left, if he were going to be fucking honest, but  _ hell _ if he'd say anything.)

 

He stood there awkwardly, fidgeting and unsure quite what to do with himself. His suitcase was just out in the living room - should he be unpacking, too? He didn't want to; too uneasy and self-conscious to move. He eyed the single queen-sized bed again, and a question raised from his throat and out of his mouth before he could stop himself from speaking.

 

“Um… Where am I supposed to sleep?” Jongin mumbled out, just as Kyungsoo reemerged from the bathroom, his voice nearly a squeak.

 

Kyungsoo’s attention flitted over to him. Those round eyes, blank with a casual gaze, rested on Jongin like a knife to his throat. He pointed to one side of the bed; the right side, unoccupied. “Here,” and went back to rummaging in his suitcase, pulling out a sleek laptop.

 

Oh. Okay. At least he had a bed for himself - a queen-sized too. But- wait a second…

 

“Well… Then… Where are you gonna sleep?” The question fell hesitantly from Jongin’s lips, soft and curious.

 

Kyungsoo looked at him once more - striking and hot - and a corner of his lips curled up in amusement. He pointed at the other side of the bed; the left side, which held his suitcase. “Here.”

 

Jongin swallowed thickly. There his heart goes again, bursting lose in his ribcage and tumbling straight out of his ass. His fingers trembled faintly, blood rushing to his brain and wetting his forehead with sweat. “... _ Oh. _ ”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I can't.” These two words might as well have punched Jongin right in the head, blunt and simple.

 

“Yes, you can!” Jongin firmly argued, glowering heavily from across the shiny metal picnic table they sat at. Junmyeon rolled his eyes, picking through his Caesar salad.

 

“No, Jongin, I  _ can't. _ ” 

 

“Why not?” the younger whined, balling his fists, “It's not anything drastic - it's just rooming buddies, for fuck’s sake! What's the big deal? I was supposed to be roomed with Sehun anyways, just switch us out!”

 

Junmyeon shook his head. “I can't.”

 

Jongin smacked the edge of the table, face scrunched up in annoyance, “Why not!”

 

“Manager’s choice.” Junmyeon answered, calmly. “This…  _ thing _ … that's going on between you and Kyungsoo - whatever the hell it is, it's causing issues. Manager says you two need to form some chemistry or at least settle whatever beef you've got, because the tension between you is evident on-screen and it's uncomfortable to watch.”

 

Jongin scowled, looking downward. “That's bullshit.”

 

“It's not bullshit, Jongin. It's not only affecting our entire team, but putting our activities on hold. Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s chemistry can only distract so much when you can't even look in Kyungsoo’s direction without clamming up. So until I see that you and Kyungsoo are getting along fine enough to sit at a damn table together, you can take your ass right back inside and get to bonding.” His tone was firm, unfaltering, and - _ fuck _ , there was no use arguing.

 

Jongin crumbled where he sat, mushing his face into his hands with a groan and muttering gibberish - something about his  _ Mom  _ and  _ planning the funeral. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jongin wasn't going to share a room with Kyungsoo. He simply wasn't. He wouldn't. Manager be  _ damned. _ He'd quite prefer to keep his life, honestly, and Kyungsoo was the number one threat to his blood pressure. It wasn't exactly a  _ pleasant  _ feeling to be on the brink of a heart attack when you're supposed to be relaxing. Kyungsoo made him nervous. Kyungsoo made him anxious. Kyungsoo put his heartbeat in his ears. Kyungsoo made it hard to speak, to think. Kyungsoo made him flustered. Kyungsoo tied his stomach in knots. Kyungsoo had a  _ ridiculous _ grip on him.

 

Kyungsoo…  _ Kyungsoo _ . Jongin could never look up from the floor in his prescience.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jongin’s eyes snapped open to a loud blaring in his ear. He groaned, eyes scrunching closed as he wiped a string of drool from the corner of his mouth and searched blindly for his phone. He knocked the device onto the floor, clattering loudly and still screaming for him that It's  _ time to wake up! Time to wake up! Time to wake up! _

 

The room was still pitch dark, and the cushions creaked under his weight as he peeled his eyes open and leaned over the edge of the couch. His phone was lit up brightly under the coffee table, luckily for him, easy to find, and he quickly grabbed it up and switched the alarm off.

 

4:30AM. An ungodly fucking hour. He's been waking up at this time for the past  _ week, _ getting just barely over two hours of sleep every night because their practices always run late, and he has to wait until everyone's disappeared into their rooms before he can get ready for bed. Or rather, for  _ couch. _

 

He doesn't sleep in his room. He had unpacked his things and set up his bathroom toiletries (on the damn right side of the sink), but refused to claim his side of the bed.

 

Because Kyungsoo slept there. Sleeping with Kyungsoo? Unfathomable. The mere thought made him uneasy.

 

Kyungsoo never said anything about it. He gave Jongin terse glances here and there between lunch breaks and practice hours, but didn't question the dancer as he retired to their room alone each night. He didn't rat him out, either, which Jongin was thankful for. The vocalist just let him be, and watched as the dark bags under Jongin’s eyes got heavier and his performance steadily declined.

  
  
  
  


Jongin was startled awake once more in the practice room, Sehun giving him a back-handed slap to the chest to signal their short water break was over and it was time to get back to practice

 

He’d dozed off after plopping down on the floor and resting his head against the wall, a water bottle slipping out of his hand and his mouth hung open. His mouth clicked shut at once, an annoyed grimace automatically coming to his face as he lifted his head but kept his eyes firmly shut as he slowly dreaded standing up again. His legs were achy. His back was achy.  _ He _ was achy. And sleepy. _ So fucking sleepy. _

 

It was barely passed two in the afternoon, so he'd have to endure about another ten hours of dance practice, vocal training, and interview run-throughs before he'd be able to sleep.  _ Ugh. _

 

His eyes finally opened as he stood in his spot to begin the choreography of “Angel.” He caught sight of his own reflection first; sunken eyes, mussed hair, and frumpy sweats, then caught Kyungsoo glancing.

 

The vocalist’s expression was quite unreadable aside from the heaviness in his eyes; a silent chiding. Jongin looked away at once, adjusting his shirt and willing his eyes to stay open while waiting for the music queue, faint and bitter scowl on his face.

 

It goes on like this for days. Jongin strays further into sleep deprivation- never getting enough hours of rest, never eating quite as much as he should, not showering despite the copious amounts of sweat and grease layering up on his skin. And, naturally, his performance takes a drastic downfall as well. Not a single day passes where he’s not getting a firm talking to by their choreographer,  _ “Jongin, you need to put in more effort,” “Jongin, please keep in time,” “Jongin, pay closer attention to your steps,” “Jongin- for heaven’s sake, focus!” _

 

He’s exhausted. He  _ reeks _ of B.O. and he looks an utter mess. The greasiness of his fringe is causing his face to break out, and Sehun takes a lot of opportunities to point out his awful smell.

 

Kyungsoo kept giving him  _ looks _ ; slanted glances and sighing under his breath. He starts doting, too. It's rare and subtle, but Jongin  _ does  _ notice it.

 

He grabs Jongin’s duffle bag along with his own when it's finally time to call it a night and Jongin is too semiconscious to remember to get it for himself. (When Jongin suddenly becomes aware of his absent bag on the short trek to the dorms, he panics before realizing it’s with Kyungsoo. He retrieves it awkwardly, very awkwardly, muttering terse  _ ‘thanks’  _ and never really making eye contact.)

 

Kyungsoo scoops extra amounts of food onto Jongin’s plate at meals when everyone's being loud and no one really notices that Jongin isn't eating -- because he's too busy dozing off. And Jongin doesn't really know where the extra food on his plate came from, but suddenly he remembers he’s  _ starving  _ and sleepily digs in.

 

Kyungsoo sprays copious amounts of air freshener in Jongin’s bag while Jongin is in the bathroom, and Jongin notices that Kyungsoo has left his deodorant very oddly positioned on the counter -- on Jongin’s side, where it's  _ not _ supposed to be. (He might’ve used it once… Maybe twice… And he always  _ pointedly _ puts it back on the vocalist’s side of the counter.)

  
  


He's so tired.  _ So tired. _ He could actually cry in relief when his manager orders him to take a day off. Kyungsoo isn't the only one who notices his exhaustion apparently, and he's allowed one single day and evening to sort his shit out before any punishment ensues. He wants to be bitter - because this whole shitty situation could have been avoided if they hadn't just decided to make  _ actual Nightmare _ his room buddy - but he'll actually get a chance to sleep for more than two hours, so for that he can't really complain.

 

The dorm is so quiet when everyone is gone. He's got the whole place to himself, and he  _ basks  _ in the quietness and some rare alone-time. The cabinets are raided for snacks, but alas… Living with five other members (plus their manager), there seems to always be a shortage of snacks. 

 

He groaned in annoyance, his dreams of eating all the salty chips and sweets he could imagine drifting away - and then he remembered the little hangout corner in Kyungsoo’s (and technically his) room. Specifically the mini fridge. What luck! His dreams weren't dead after all.

  
  


The room, his and (mostly) Kyungsoo’s room, wasn't much different from when he'd last been in there. There was dirty clothes basket, half full of black shirts and black jeans and black underwear and black socks and  _ damn _ Kyungsoo is really lacking  some color in his wardrobe.

 

There was also a distinct smell to the room now. Quite a Kyungsoo-esque smell, as well. Black teakwood was most prominent. (Jongin spotted a deep blue candle on Kyungsoo’s bedside table, labeled “Black Teakwood”.  _ Ah. _ ) The second scent was something… floral. Close to laundry detergent. Very clean. Very Kyungsoo.Figures.

 

The mini fridge as Jongin last remembered it had only held fruit cups, but now there was quite an array of snacks and drinks to choose from. Some yogurt with candy toppings. Sugary sodas. In the small freezer compartment: two fish-shaped ice-creams. None of this was allowed in their diets! Kyungsoo must've stocked it full in secret! His secret sweet stash! Why hadn't he told Jongin about this??? (Then again, why would he bother…) He's so selfish!

 

Jongin dug in with some slight hesitancy, but the moment that sweet ice-cream melted over his tongue, all his worries and concerns melted right away with it. It been so long since he'd last has ice-cream… Ah, he could cum. This was better than any sex he'd ever had. He vocalized it with a hearty moan, settling back into one of the beanie chairs in bliss.

 

Post ice-cream orgasm, he really felt up for a movie. He really ought to splurge - he hadn't had a chance to dive into the movie collection in their room because  _ Kyungsoo _ .

 

But Kyungsoo wasn't fucking here, so nothing stood in the way of his action movie marathon, and that big comfy-looking bed he'd  _ yet _ to try out. Kyungsoo’s been hogging it all to himself, so it's about time he had a turn.

 

The big flat screen had a widget that allowed it to swing out so you could watch it from the bed, held sturdy by a retractable arm-beam thingy, so Jongin took advantage of it. He positioned the flat screen just right towards the bed, and slid  _ Pirates of The Caribbean  _ into the sleak DVD player before settling in.

 

The bed was  _ so soft _ . So squishy, yet perfectly firm, like a big perfect  _ hug  _ of coziness. His muscles and joints were  _ singing _ in relief. (The couch was quite unforgiving to his aches.) Almost immediately, he felt the tension seeping away, and relaxation creep up. He didn't even make it under the blankets - didn't even press play on his movie! - before he fell victim to the sweet beckoning of sleep. The bed smelled most prominently of Kyungsoo - but he had fallen asleep before pinpointing the comforting scent.

  
  
  
  
  


Jongin wakes up some time later - nearly tumbling off the side of the bed in startlement. Getting scared awake by a figure with big dark eyes leering down at him isn't exactly the most pleasant; he nearly pissed himself! He shuffled back a bit, scrunching the plush pillow between his hands in a deathgrip.

 

It was a murderer! An alien! He was going to be murdered or probed--

 

“Have you decided to sleep in here tonight?” A timbre voice said, some monotone annoyance laced through the undertones. He knew that voice. The owner of it wasn't really that much better than a murderer or an alien or whatever. Jongin could still be murdered or probed for all he knew.

 

His voice was lost somewhere up in his mind, and he didn't say anything. Just stared up at the vocalist like a deer in the headlights, clutching a pillow. Kyungsoo released a sigh through his nose, and ducked his hand into his pocket for something, pulling out a small shiny box before flipping it back. A tall flame flickered out of the top. A lighter.

 

( _ Holy shit _ , he’s gonna set Jongin on fire--) He leaned over his bedside table, lighting the Black Teakwood scented candle that sat there. (Oh.) Jongin could slightly make out his face now, soft features glowing orange in the otherwise dark room. His pupils reflected little flames in their centers.

 

“If you are, please take a shower,” he clicked the lighter closed and dropped it in his pocket, “You smell like dogshit, and I just washed the sheets yesterday.”

 

_ Rude _ , Jongin mentally grumbled, scowling as Kyungsoo sat on the edge of the bed and proceeded to take his shoes off. (He wasn't all that wrong though… He smelled fucking  _ rank _ .) He slowly crept off his side of the bed, eying the other a bit as he gathered himself some fresh clothes and entertained the idea of sleeping in there for the night.

 

He… He could. Possibly... Maybe…

 

He circled round the bed towards the bathroom, edging past Kyungsoo tucking his socks into his shoes as if he were a spider too scary to squish, and closed himself in the bathroom. Showering  _ was _ a good idea, truthfully. He hadn’t properly bathed in weeks and was beginning to feel quite scummy.

  
  
  


By the time he got out, Kyungsoo had settled himself in bed, with the blankets tucked up under his armpits and his laptop propped on his knees, typing away. One of the bedside lamps were on now, (Kyungsoo’s), so it was pitch dark anymore. Jongin eyed him (again), with his dirty clothes clutched awkwardly to his chest. 

 

“Just drop ‘em in there.” Kyungsoo said, not even glancing up from his laptop. Jongin noticed the laundry basket stood beside him, full of Kyungsoo’s mundane clothes, and tentatively,  _ very tentatively _ , set his own pile on top.

 

Was… Was he supposed to lay down, now? Did he want to? Why did he want to? 

 

Kyungsoo… didn't look particularly dangerous. Not at the moment. He was busy on his laptop. Typing away. There was no reason Jongin couldn't just… carefully lay on his own side of the bed. He was still tired, and the thought of returning right their leathery, sticky, uncomfortable couch made him want to cry. He'd had a taste of temptation, and now he'd never been sated… The bed was just so damn cozy.

 

_ Fuck it _ . If anything happened, he knew how to punch.

 

Crawling into bed with Kyungsoo was  _ incredibly _ weird. And awkward. He was overly self-aware of every move he made as he pushed the covers back and climbed under them. He turned his back towards the elder, curling up on his side and tugging the blanket up to his nose.

 

He didn't fall asleep right away - he was too rigid and focused on the tapping over Kyungsoo’s fingers over laptop keys. But eventually, once he was pretty sure he wasn't going to probed or murdered, his body began to relax, and  _ eventually _ , he was able to drift off to sleep. The  _ pitter-patter _ of keys served as a strange lullaby.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

Jongin had never felt more well rested in his life. Ah, he could practically hear angels singing  as he cracked his eyes open and smiled to himself, stretching out his limbs and basking in the delicious warmth and softness of feather pillows and cotton sheets and an actual mattress to lay on. The couch could never compare to  _ this.  _ This was Heaven.

 

He snoozed for a while longer; not really sleeping, but not really awake either. He just listened to the world around him and fantasized about hot fried chicken for breakfast. Some of the members were up and about; Jongin could hear being loud and chatting from the living room or kitchen. Chanyeol was playing his guitar, humming some sort of tune, and Baekhyun singing offkey like an idiot - practicing screaming through a high note. Junmyeon was laughing and talking loudly over Baekhyun's wails, _ “seriously! how are you so hyper, it's too early!”  _ and then Chanyeol was also yelling and singing offkey. There was water running somewhere in the background - a shower muffled behind a closed door, which then shut off.

 

Jongin felt a surge of consciousness then. His head flung up from under his pillow to look at the empty left side of the bed. Kyungsoo was already up, apparently. His eyes snapped to the bathroom door as it opened to reveal a very close to naked Kyungsoo. A white towel was wrapped snug around his hips, and another, black towel was around his neck - which he was using to dry his hair. His chest was bare and just out there and Jongin glanced dizzily at the trail of fine black hairs at the base of his stomach, leading the dancer’s gaze from Kyungsoo’s navel down toward the towel like a treasure map.

 

“Good, you’re awake,” Kyungsoo spared him one of his unbothered glances as he walked towards the closet across the room. Jongin sat up so quickly, his vision swam a little.  Panicky jitters coursed through him like little bugs, and he kicked the blankets off him before scrambling towards the edge of the bed, trying to make a run for it while Kyungsoo was busy in the closet and wouldn't see him run away like a cat sprayed with water.

 

“We need to talk.” Kyungsoo said as he exited the walk in closet - foiling Jongin escape. The younger way now sat close to the edge of the foot of the bed, at an awkward angle.

 

_ Oh no _ , this was going to be The Talk. The  _ “I know you saw me fucking a coordinator” _ talk that Jongin had been trying to avoid to save his life.  _ Oh my god oh my god oh my god-- _

 

“Listen.” Kyungsoo started, voice casual as he pulled open a dresser drawer and grabbed a pair of gray undies. He dropped the towel around his waist - and Jongin’s eyeballs just about fell out of his damn face. He blinked rapidly, turning his eyes to the ceiling. “I think we got off on the wrong foot here, and I just think it'd be better if we just started over,” he stepped into the briefs, pulling them up over his privates as he spoke, keeping nerve wracking eye-contact with the side Jongin’s face. Jongin glanced haphazardly at him, meeting those eyes for a moment before looking elsewhere again and clearing his throat.

 

He was able to breathe for a second as Kyungsoo turned away from him, digging a pair of sweats out of the dresser. “Also… I know you saw some things, that night in the studio,” he wore the sweats - and Jongin  _ definitely _ hadn't been looking at his ass before processing his words.  _ Oh fuck here it comes.  _ He turned to Jongin, now just shirtless with his hair still damp and the towel over his shoulders. His expression was… soft. Something meaningful was hidden in those orbs when Jongin really met his gaze for once. “I'm sorry about it. I wasn't expecting anyone to come back. And- thanks, for not telling on me. I would've gotten in a lot of trouble if you had.”

 

Jongin swallowed against the dryness in his throat, gaze flicking towards the floor with a suppressed sigh. “You shouldn't have done that there, anyway.” He grumbled begrudgingly, “It's gross.”

 

Kyungsoo laughed airily, dismissively rolling his eyes as he went back over to the closet and pulled out a shirt to wear.

 

Words were gathering up in Jongin’s throat again- “Well… I guess, thanks for not… telling on me, too. For not sleeping in here.” He said quietly, picking at a loose string in the blanket and scowling slightly.

 

Kyungsoo didn't say anything, just pulled the shirt over his head and  _ smiled _ that annoying  _ smirk-smile _ thing he always did. Now that the elder was fully dressed, Jongin didn't feel quite as lightheaded. He watched Kyungsoo’s feet as he walked towards the door, then paused and turned back towards Jongin.

 

“I want you to start sleeping here, Jongin,” Kyungsoo speaking his name still sent chills to his spine. Jongin tentatively met his gaze. “I've noticed how tired you've been.” He didn't say much else, but the  _ heaviness  _ in his gaze there, holding Jongin down and tickling something in his lungs until the dancer looked away. Kyungsoo stood there for a few moments, then turned and left the bedroom. Baekhyun’s and Chanyeol’s loud banger filtered in, five times louder now that it wasn't behind a door.

 

Jongin sat there on the foot of the bed, utterly  _ bewildered _ of the conversation that occured.  _ What? What? _ All he could properly process was  _ what??? _

“C’mon we’re going to breakfast.” Sehun’s voice startled him, and he looked up to find the other in the doorway.

 

Jongin nodded absently, “okay” then got up to get dressed. 

...What a morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello I'm alive lmao happy 2 year anniversary to this fic, I'm sorry I'm neglecting it so bad ;; 2017 was one of the worsy years of my life and i just couldn't focus or write.
> 
> I hope you liked this update! My twitter is @kaileidohscope if you want to keep up with my bullshit. I have a curiouscat, too, if you have any questions, just send 'em there. (Also kaileidohscope.) You can also follow me on tumblr @omegajongin or @kaileidohscope if you'd like.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading and (please) leave me some comments ♡


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